


Dressed To Kill

by TheAndromedaRecord



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (it's martin and tim), Body Image, Competition, Crack, Dare, Fade to Black, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Gen, Gender non-conformity, Implied Sexual Content, Light-Hearted, Lingerie, M/M, Sexual Humor, Team Bonding, Team as Family, basira is a furry and so is melanie, crackfic, goes completely off the rails, gratuitous dress code violations, jurgen leitner lives in the vents like this is a fucking 2012 avengers fanfic, no angst because i said so, no beta no edits we die like jonathan sims, sasha lives because i said so, sexy martin rights, stupid and unprepared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAndromedaRecord/pseuds/TheAndromedaRecord
Summary: Tim notices that Elias never calls out the Archive staff on their dress code violations, and he proposes a little game.
Relationships: Basira Hussain & Melanie King & Alice "Daisy" Tonner & Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Jurgen Leitner, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker, Michael "Mike" Crew/Tim Stoker
Comments: 508
Kudos: 868





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this whole thing is total crack. enjoy

“Have you guys noticed,” Tim asked, “that Elias never dress codes us?”

“This isn’t secondary school, Tim,” Jon snapped. “Of course he doesn’t.”

“No, no, he’s right,” Martin input nervously. “When I worked in Research, I wore a t-shirt to work one day and Elias made me put on a shirt from a box of button-ups he keeps in his office.”

“Wish I had one of those,” Jon muttered, casting a disdainful glance at Martin’s jeans. 

Martin crossed his arms defiantly. Jon had mellowed considerably since coming back from his little stint as a murder suspect, and his little quips and jabs no longer held the same bite they used to. Or maybe Martin had just gotten used to them.

“Anyway,” Tim continued, “all I’m saying is, Melanie wears crop tops every other day and he doesn’t bat an eye.”

“What’s your point,” Melanie demanded.

“Well, Elias seems to like our department better, but there has to be a limit. And I think we should find out what that limit is.”

“S-sorry, what are you suggesting?” Martin asked. 

“I thought that was obvious, Martin. We’re going to see exactly how far we can go before Elias determines we’re dressing in a manner far too scandalous for his sensibilities.”

“I’m sure you will have fun with that,” Jon said drily. “But as your manager, Tim, and someone who has to work with you in close proximity, I’m going to have to veto this plan.”

Tim flipped him off. “Martin, you in?”

Martin reddened. “Tim, I am not being immodest at work!”

“Coward,” Melanie told him. “I’m in.”

“I’m in,” said Basira, and Jon yelped in surprise as he realized Basira had been reading on top of the office bookshelf. “I’m going to be far more creative than any of you.”

“I’m in,” said Sasha.

“I’m in,” said Leitner from the air vents.

“C’mon, boss,” Tim cajoled. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen your forearms. Let loose a little!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then at least let us do it.”

“Under no circumstances. This blatant unprofessionalism is not welcome in my office.”

“Please?” said Martin.

“Of course you all may do this. Martin, can I get you anything? Some tea? Some lunch?”

“Um. No, I’m fine.”

Melanie high-fived Martin.

“Okay,” Tim announced. “We need a system. We can’t all just show up in thongs, after all.”

“How about a rotation?” Basira suggested. “We have an order, and everyone has to try to one-up the previous person.”

“What’s the punishment if they don’t?” Jon asked, curious in spite of himself.

“They have to use a pick-up line on Elias,” Melanie supplied, and the chorus of “NOOOs” from around the room attested to the genius of the idea.

“All right,” Tim clapped his hands together. “Operation Violate Dress Code begins! Let’s do...let’s see…”

“I’ll go first,” Martin quickly volunteered. “So I don’t have to one-up anyone the first round..”

“Mmmm.” Tim started pointing and writing something down in a notebook. “How about Martin, then Sasha, then Basira, then Melanie, then me. Then Jon, if you want to join.”

“What about me,” Leitner said from the vents.

“You never leave the vents and Elias doesn’t know you’re alive,” Jon reminded him.

“I can be sexy,” Leitner asserted. 

“Please,” Jon said, “do not put that image in my head.”

“The rules,” Tim declared, “are as followed. You must violate the Institute dress code in a way that goes beyond our normal, you know, disregard. The person who comes in the day after you must do so more egregiously. At the end of the day, we shall all vote on if they succeeded. Points shall be given for creativity and overall sexiness. If you do not one-up the previous person, the Council shall decide on something flirtatious you must say to Elias Bouchard. Oh, and Elias has to see everyone’s outfit at some point during the day. If you’re the one to make him snap, everyone else has to throw you a party. But don’t rush straight to bikinis—we don’t want to end the fun too soon!”

“Well, that goes without saying,” said Sasha.

“Can I request that no genitals be shown in my Archives?” Jon asked.

“Genitals may not be shown,” Tim said, “but they may be heavily implied.”

“Close enough,” Jon muttered.

“All right!” Tim clapped his hands together. “Martin, you’re up tomorrow.”

* * *

“Jon,” Elias said. “You wanted me down here?”

“Yes, yes, just wanted to hand you these filing reports. Here you go.”

Elias accepted the reports with a bland smile, and went back to his office without so much at glancing at Martin’s exposed shoulders. 

Jon did, in fact, glance at Martin’s exposed shoulders. They were freckled and pale, and Jon didn’t see how Elias could possibly ignore them.

* * *

The next day, Sasha showed up in cutoff denim shorts and a shirt that showed an inch of skin. Elias, again, didn’t seem to notice, even as he greeted her with a “good morning.” The Council voted that she had one-upped Martin, and Tim applauded her restraint.

“This is a slow burn, people,” he reminded them. “We have to go incrementally, or our results won’t be scientific.”

“I appreciate that,” said Jon.

* * *

“It’s my turn,” said Leitner from the vents.

“No the fuck it isn’t,” said Basira, her voice muffled through the giant furry head she was wearing.

“I’m wearing fishnets,” he continued.

“Ew.” 

Basira returned to her book. It was very hard to read, but she wasn’t a quitter.

“Good morning, Basira,” Elias greeted her blandly as he dropped by the archives to drop off a sheaf of budget reports on Jon’s desk. “I do like your new hat.”

Basira blinked. Tim stuffed his hand in his mouth to muffle his giggles. 

“It is pretty sexy,” Melanie said as soon as Elias left. Jon hit her in the back of the head with a thrown ball of crumpled paper.

“No furries in my Archive,” he said.

The Council voted that it was a valid escalation.

* * *

“I just don’t know if it’s more egregious than a furry head,” Jon said.

“Oh, come on,” Melanie complained. “Covering your head like that isn’t even against Institute dress code! But it explicitly states: ‘no unprofessional slogans, words or logos, or those that run counterintuitive to the mission of the Institute.’” She gestured to her shirt that read “I eat statements when Elias isn’t looking.” “How is this not unprofessional?”

“Except,” Basira pointed out, “Jon does eat statements, and Elias is never looking when he does it. So eating statements when Elias isn’t looking is actually very much a part of the mission of the Institute.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Tim simpered. “Looks like your spooky manager betrayed you, Melanie.”

“Jon, you stupid statement-eating twink!” Melanie yelled.

“Why am I the twink?” Jon demanded.

“Well,” Tim said, “I’m too ripped and Martin’s obviously a bear.”

“I’m a twink,” Leitner said from the vents.

“I know for a fact you’re a heterosexual,” Jon reprimanded him.

* * *

“Hey Elias. Do you work at the Magnus Institute?”

“I should think that was obvious, M—”

“Because I’ve got my eye on you.”

Elias just blinked as Melanie turned and ran. Another murder plot, no doubt.

* * *

“Tim,” Jon asked flatly. “What the fuck.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tim put a heel up on Jon’s desk, and Jon scooted his chair back. “I’m Babereham Lincoln.”

Jon took in the top hat, tuxedo top, and fishnets with wide eyes.

“This is...an escalation. I thought you said we’d take it slow.”

“Sorry if I’m going too fast,” Tim purred in a sexual tone that made Jon want to throw himself into the sea, “but I’ve had this thing in the closet for months and I couldn’t resist. You like?”

“It’s. Something.”

“Isn’t it?”

Jon peered around Tim into the rest of the archives. The girls were giggling and Martin looked like he was about to faint. Elias entered the room.

“Ah, Tim,” Elias said. “You didn’t answer my emails.”

“What do you want, Elias.”

“Are you coming to the potluck on Saturday?”

“And huff down your dry ass scones? I’ll pass.”

“Really, Tim. There’s no need to be,” Elias’s eyes landed on Tim’s uncomfortably tight shorts, “nasty.”

* * *

“So,” Tim asked, “how do we feel so far?”

“P-pretty good,” Martin said, his eyes not moving from Tim’s exposed thighs.

“I have a question,” Sasha said. “Can we violate the dress code even when it’s not our turn?”

Tim threw his arms wide. “Of course! Just not to the extent that you overshadow the competition.”

Jon twisted his hands in his lap. Truth be told, he had a few outfits he’d like to wear that decidedly weren’t Institute standard. But he couldn’t wear them. That would be unprofessional.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sexy martin time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit less crack

“I-I just don’t know if I can one-up Babereham Lincoln,” Martin confessed to Tim as he chopped the onions. “I’m not, I mean, I’m not you, Tim. I can’t pull something like that off.”

“Okay, first of all, you don’t have to be sexy. I know what Basira’s planning, and she’s gonna blow us all out of the water without showing more than her face and hands. Second of all, what are you talking about?” Tim put the rice on low heat. “Martin, you’re a bombshell.”

“Stop,” Martin muttered. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m serious! If you can’t seduce Jon, there is no hope for the rest of us.”

“That’s-that’s not what—seduce Jon? No, no that’s not what’s going on,” Martin sputtered, his face well and truly red. “He-he doesn’t, that’s not something he’s—”

“I saw how he looked at your shoulders. There’s more than one way to seduce someone, Martin.”

“You would know,” Martin muttered. “It’s just—well, you don’t mind? I mean, we literally just—”

“Martin. We’ve had this talk. No strings attached, except the literal ones.”

Martin nodded, sighed, and moved on to the garlic. “Just checking. You know how I get.”

“Afraid that your totally reasonable wants are a burden on others despite the fact that those in your life care about you very much, independent of what you can offer them?”

“Yeah. That. So what do you suggest I wear?”

“Well, I’d suggest that retro crop top, but now that we’re in round two, normal street clothes simply will not do. Let’s look through your closet while we wait for the rice.”

Before Martin could protest, Tim bounded up the stairs into the bedroom. He threw all the drawers open and started rifling through the closet.

“Tim,” Martin panted as he entered the room on Tim’s heels, “I don’t need you looking through my stuff, I just need suggestions.”

“Hmm,” Tim mused. “There’s this leather jacket that isn’t revealing, but definitely counts for sexy points, you could wear that without a shirt...no short shorts, really, Martin...oh? What’s this?”

“That’s just my winter clothes!” Martin yelped. “No need to look at that, it’s really not your—no, Tim, don’t rummage through it like that—”

“Martin!” Tim crowed, lifting out a fistful of red lingerie, “You’ve been holding out on me!”

Martin’s face turned as red as a beet.

“Is this a harness?”

“It’s really none of your business.”

“Considering we’ve been shagging, Martin, it’s very much my business. Why didn’t you tell me you had this stuff?” Tim’s face was the image of glee.

“W-well, it’s been a while, and I’m not exactly able to, you know, pull it off—”

“I’ll be the judge of that. I propose a plan. Step one: you put this on me,” he held up the harness, “and fuck me. Step two: you wear this,” he held up the red lace lingerie, “to work on Monday.”

“T-Tim!” Martin stammered. “I’m not wearing that to work.”

“How about under the leather jacket?” Tim suggested. “So that you can unzip it sensually when Elias walks in.”

“Okay. Okay. Fine.”

“And,” Tim added, “you’re going to take my desk tomorrow so Jon can see you through the door.”

“Oh my God,” Martin groaned, burying his head in his hands.

* * *

“Did you forget, or something?” Sasha asked as Martin walked in wearing a leather jacket and skinny jeans.

“I have a plan,” Martin explained. “Maybe Elias will dress code me if I shock him into it.”

Jon shook his head disapprovingly, but had to admit he was intrigued to see what Martin had planned. He made sure to keep his door open, and was baffled but not exactly annoyed when Tim and Martin settled into each other’s desks, so Martin was facing Jon’s office.

The leather jacket and jeans were a very good look, Jon had to admit. Objectively speaking, of course. 

The rest of the Archives staff were breaking the dress code far more than Martin appeared to be. Tim was wearing his crop top that said “Statement Begins” and his booty shorts that said “Statement Ends.” Melanie had on her usual crop top, while Sasha and Basira wore matching Iron Man and Captain America closet cosplay. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice the absolutely scandalous choice Jon had made—he’d unbuttoned the top collar of his shirt.

Finally, Elias came down into the Archives.

“You mentioned you had those reports for me, Martin?” he said smoothly.

“Oh! Y-yes. Here you go. Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“It’s awfully hot in here. Do you think you could turn it down a little?”

Jon was about to snap that the temperature was perfectly fine, thank you, he didn’t want to have to wear a jacket because Martin wouldn’t take off his—and then Martin sensually unzipped the jacket and shrugged it off his shoulders, and Jon immediately lost all capacity for rational thought.

Martin was wearing lingerie. Red lace lingerie that stood out against his skin, that showed off the lovely curves of his chest. He didn’t even need to unzip the jacket all the way to prove his point. Jon’s mouth hung open. 

Elias just stared at Martin for a long, long moment, and at long last a spot of red appeared on Elias’s cheeks.

“The thermostat is in the boiler room,” Elias said before turning on his heel and exiting the Archives.

As soon as he left, Tim let out a cheer and Martin quickly zipped up his jacket, rapidly turning red. Jon wished he’d kept the jacket off and immediately reprimanded himself. Martin was his employee. That was unprofessional.

“We’re starting to get a reaction from Elias!” Tim announced. “Way to go, Martin, you sexy beast.”

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sasha said.

Martin put his head down on the table and groaned.

“Martin,” Melanie ordered, “you better stop or I’m going to become heterosexual.”

“That was very sexy,” said Leitner from the vents. 

“What do you think, Jon?” Tim suddenly asked, a devilish grin on his face.

All Jon could manage was a pained noise.

“What was that, Jon?” Basira asked, her face a picture of guileless curiosity. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I have to record a statement,” Jon said, slamming the door before collapsing to the floor and having a gay crisis.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hrrrn, Archivist, I'm trying to sneak around the vents, but I'm dummy thicc, and the clap of my ass cheeks keeps alerting Elias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jonmartin time

“So,” Tim said, “end of day briefing. Martin obviously one-upped me.”

“I think we’re gonna have to change the rules a bit,” Melanie said, “because we’ve already reached maximum sexy.”

Tim nodded. “I agree. From now on, you don’t necessarily have to one-up the previous person. You just have to be creative and break the dress code. And escalate.”

“Thank God,” Sasha sighed. “My outfit definitely won’t one-up Martin.”

“All right,” Tim decided. “Martin has been deemed the paragon of sexy.”

“Guys, stop!” Martin muttered, hiding his red-faced grin in his hands.

“I disagree,” said Leitner for the vents. “I’m obviously sexier. Is Martin really the paragon of sexy?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Tim with a contrived expression of innocence. “I think Jon’s the only person with the authority to judge that. He is the Head Archivist, after all.”

“Me?” Jon spluttered. “Tim, I’m ace.”

“Yeah. That makes you objective. Unless...you have some sort of bias?” Basira said.

“Okay, time for the judgement,” Tim pronounced solemnly. “Martin, jacket off.”

“This really isn’t necessary—”

“C’mon, Martin! Jon didn’t get a good look when Elias was down here. Don’t you want to prove Leitner wrong?”

“I really don’t have an issue with Leitner, didn’t he give you that, ah, self help book—”

“Yes, and I know exactly why you liked that.”

“Why would he like you receiving a book?” Jon asked, baffled, then suddenly Knew what the book was. “Wait, what?! You two are-are-are having intercourse? AND YOU TOOK SEX TIPS FROM A LEITNER?” 

“How did you not notice?” Melanie demanded. “They’ve done it on your desk!”

“WHAT??????!!?!?!?!”

“Oh my God,” Martin buried his head in his hands.

“You stole my lunch!” Tim defended. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“I have to come clean,” said Leitner from the vents. “I was the one who stole your lunch.”

“Oh, no,” Martin groaned, slowly curling up on the floor.

“Goddammit!” Tim exploded. “Martin, how do you feel about having sex in the vents?”

Martin did not respond, as he was now fully curled in the fetal position.

“Anyway,” Basira sighed, “Martin, you were about to take the jacket off?”

“What? No!” Jon yelled. “This conversation is not over. Tim, please tell me you...cleaned.”

“I didn’t want to. But Martin insisted.”

“The desk wasn’t my idea,” Martin said. 

Jon ran a hand through his hair and took a deep, calming breath. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Tim input, “it was really good sex—”

“All right,” Jon announced, “I have decided this conversation is over.”

“Okay, Martin,” Tim said, hauling him into a sitting position. “Final round. Jacket off.”

Martin groaned and unzipped his jacket to reveal the lingerie again. Jon’s face was burning by the time the zipper was two inches down. He’d barely been able to handle the faraway tease Martin had given Elias, and now Martin was shrugging the jacket all the way off his shoulders, and Jon wanted to bury his head in his hands because he was a professional, but Tim would never let him live that down. 

“Thoughts?” Martin asked casually. “Am I, you know, sexier than Leitner?”

“Ngk,” Jon said. 

“Is that a no?”

“You are,” Jon coughed, “sexier than Leitner. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He ran out of the room to have another gay crisis.

* * *

Sasha, the next day, turned up in a full Victorian ballgown and refused to speak in anything but old English. To her great frustration, however, Elias didn’t notice except to correct her on the period accuracy of her phrasing. 

“Does he do Ren faires, or something?” Jon muttered.

“I bet it’s his kink,” Melanie said. “Wait. That gives me an idea.”

* * *

Jon screamed and dropped his tea mug as he entered the Archives to see a distorted mockery of Elias’s face.

“You startled me,” the figure that Jon realized was Basira complained. 

Jon took a closer look. Basira was wearing a suit so identical to Elias’s style that Jon was convinced she’d stolen it and had it retailored. She’d even completed the look with one of Elias’s novelty ties. The worst part, though, was the paper-mache mask of Elias’s face that had made Jon think the Stranger was in the Archives. He let out a bizarre little giggle at the thin toupee stabled to Basira’s hijab. 

“That’s horrifying,” Jon told her. “I say that as a person who once got attacked by a worm woman.”

“You haven’t even seen the best part.” Basira picked up a book, read it for a few seconds, then shut it. “How’s this,” she said, her voice sounding exactly like Elias’s.

“Please,” Jon groaned. “I can’t handle my staff using Leitners.”

“At least I’m not using Leitner sex books.”

Jon sighed. It...wasn’t ideal that Tim and Martin were having sex. For workplace reasons. Obviously.

“I like your skirt,” Basira commented.  
“O-oh! Thank you.”

Jon grinned as he headed for his office. Maybe varying up his wardrobe wasn’t so bad.

* * *

“Listen,” Jon said, “what you do outside of work is your business. But I have to request that you do not have, ah, relations in my Archives. And please fill out this workplace relationship form.”

“Okay, boomer,” Tim muttered.

“I-it’s not like that,” Martin said. “It’s not, it’s not romantic or anything.”

Jon’s eyebrows shot up, and if Martin didn’t know better, he’d say that Jon looked...pleased? Probably just glad that Martin and Tim wouldn’t complicate things at work.

“You wound me,” Tim sighed overdramatically. “I thought what we had was special.”

“A-anyway,” Jon said. “So. No form, then.” He shoved it in his mouth and ate it. “Mmm. Delicious. So. That’s the verdict: please keep it out of work.”

“Are you sure?” Tim asked. “Because there’s always room for one more, you kn—”

“Please leave my office.”

“No, seriously. I’ve been thinking. Archives polycule?”

Jon paused. “I’ll consider allowing it. If I can find the relevant paperwork. You’d have to ask Elias.”

* * *

“Melanie. You’re just wearing a t shirt and jeans,” Jon said.

“You reprimanded me for that on my first week working here,” Martin teased. Jon turned surprisingly red.

“R-right. Sorry about that.”

“Guys,” Melanie interrupted, “or should I say gays, look.” She put an ankle up on her desk.

“I’m looking,” Martin said. “Are you not wearing socks? It’s really cold out.”

“Exactly,” Melanie said proudly. “All of you guys have had your ankles covered. But Elias has the sensibilities of a Victorian, so of course some titties aren’t gonna fluster him! So. Sexy ankles.”

“That’s brilliant.” Jon’s voice was hushed and awed.

“Melanie,” Elias greeted as he entered the Archives for his weekly hot yoga in the tunnels. “Planned any murders latel—” Elias froze. 

“No,” Melanie said innocently, wiggling her ankle. “Except by serving looks.”

“Y-yes,” Elias stammered, eyes wide and staring. “Yes, that certainly is...what the kids call a look.”

Tim gave a helpless little yelp of laughter, which he muffled behind his hand. 

“Is there a problem, Elias?” Melanie asked.

She placed her other foot on the table, and that was the killing blow. Elias turned and bolted out of the room, slamming the Archives door behind him.

“Did you see that!” Tim declared. “He was getting an erection! We’re about to reach the climax, everyone!”

The room cheered.

* * *

It was Tim’s turn, and Jon’s clothes were mostly dirty. No one would notice if he broke the dress code at this point, the game provided a good cover, and he didn’t even have to worry about the stares on public transport thanks to the rocket sled tunnel system Leitner had been working on. There was really no reason not to break dress code.

Jon held up the skirt and off-the-shoulder top and sighed. What the hell. Everyone would be supportive, he knew, but he was still nervous—he had been strictly gender-conforming since college. 

May as well go all the way, he thought, putting long unused studs in long unused piercings.

He arrived at the Archives before everyone else, as usual. He closed his office door. 

About half an hour later, Martin opened the door. 

“Hello, J-oh. Oh, hello Jon. You, ah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “You look nice.”

Jon scrutinized Martin’s face, but he’d never been good at reading intentions. He finally decided on a cautious “thank you.”

“What did you need, Martin?” he continued. 

“I was just, um, wondering if you ate breakfast.”

“Of course I ate breakfast.”

“Did you eat breakfast, Jon?”

“No. No, I didn’t eat breakfast.”

“I thought so. I brought you this.” Martin produced a covered silver platter from behind his back, and opened it to reveal a stack of gourmet statements.

“I’m not hungry,” said Jon.

“Eat your greens,” Martin said.

Jon sighed, crumpled up a statement, and shoved it into his mouth. 

“Did you put paprika on this?” Jon asked through the paper. “It’s good.”

“O-oh! Yes. Yes I did.” Martin’s eyes lingered on Jon’s exposed collarbone. 

“Why are you staring at me like that,” Jon snapped.

“Because you’re really hot and I didn’t know you had collarbone piercings and now I just want to kiss them and I’ve had a crush on you for a while and this really isn’t helping,” Martin blurted, then clapped a hand over his mouth, looking horrified. The platter of statements clattered to the floor.

Jon blinked, then blinked again.

“Me?” he finally squeaked. “Wh-really?”

“Y-yeah,” Martin muttered. “I’m just gonna, ah...so, how long should I avoid you for?” Martin started to back up towards the door. “I’ll do a week, just to be safe.”

“Martin, wait.” Jon leapt to his feet and shut the door. “We should. Talk. About this.”

“I’m listening,” Martin replied, refusing to meet Jon’s eyes. 

“I just. Well, you know that I’m not good at—and I don’t see why, you um. But if that’s really—I suppose I could, ah,”

“Jon, you’re literally making no sense.”

“Yeah, Jon,” said Leitner from the vents. “You have to do it right. You’ve been pining over this boy for ages.”

“Shut up and get out!” Jon snapped.

“Okay,” Leitner sighed.

A pregnant pause. Martin started to speak, but Jon held up a hand to silence him.

“Leitner. I know you’re still watching.”

“How could you tell?” Leitner demanded. “You can’t see me!”

“I didn’t hear the clapping of cheeks.”

“It’s my burden to be dummy thicc,” Leitner grumbled.

The clapping of cheeks sounded quieter and quieter as Leitner crawled away. 

“Anyway,” Jon said. “I, um, I’m not good with words, so I’ll…”

He stood on his tiptoes, grabbed the sides of Martin’s face, and attempted to kiss him, but he was unfortunately too short.

“Uh. Jon. What are you doing.”

“I’m trying to kiss you?” Jon mumbled. “But…”

“...you’re a manlet,” Martin finished, a ridiculous grin spreading across his face. “You really want to kiss me?”

Jon nodded. Martin chuckled and, in one strong motion, lifted Jon up by the thighs. Jon squeaked in surprise and threw his arms around Martin’s neck. Martin smiled, and Jon realized just how close their faces were, close enough that he could count every freckle if he wanted. Which he didn’t at the moment—there would be time for that later, he hoped. Instead, he kissed Martin, hesitant and soft. Martin, of course, kissed back, parting his lips slightly, and letting out a little gasp as Jon knotted a hand in his soft, curly hair. 

“Wow,” Martin breathed as their lips parted. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

Jon kissed him again, feeling the contours of Martin’s smile.

“So,” he said, “you were saying something about kissing my piercings?”

Martin hoisted Jon up higher and pressed little nibbles along his collarbone. Jon gripped Martin’s hair tighter. 

“Hey boss,” Tim greeted, opening the door. “What do you think of my sexy nun cost—oh. Oh!” 

“Tim!” Martin squealed, whirling around and nearly dropping Jon, who clung to Martin like a desperate koala.

“Don’t mind me,” Tim said, backing out of the door. “Way to go, guys! I’ll miss our nights, though. I guess I’ll see if Mike’s free.”

Jon buried his head in Martin’s shoulder in humiliation. There were worse places to bury one’s faces in humiliation, all things considered.

“See you guys later! I’m going to thot drop right outside of Elias’s window.”

“It’s a fourth story window!” Martin told him.

“Again, I’m going to see if Mike’s free. Don’t let me interrupt.” The door slammed back shut.

“Oh, God,” Martin groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me on tumblr at ceaselesslywatched


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im going directly to hell

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Mike grumbled, but he was smiling as the two of them floated in midair outside of Elias’s window. 

Elias’s back was to them, and he appeared to be doing paperwork. Tim started to do a midair strip tease, but Elias didn’t turn.

“Ungrateful ass,” Tim said.

“I think you should keep going,” Mike said, reclining and enjoying the view. “I’m grateful for the ass. Wait, what’s that?”

Tim peered in to the window and saw that the vent was rattling. As he watched, the vent cover fell to the floor, and a heeled foot peeked out, followed by a fishnetted leg.

“No way,” Tim breathed as Jurgen Leitner emerged from the vent wearing nothing but lingerie, and that was a sight he did not want to see.

Elias didn’t seem remotely surprised. He set down the stack of papers he’d been organizing.

“Jurgen,” he said sternly. “You’re late.”

“Oh, no,” Leitner crooned, draping himself over Elias’s desk. “Are you going to destroy me with your thick, hard pipe, Elias?”

Elias hummed and leaned across the desk to pull Leitner into a kiss that quickly turned sloppy and fevered.

“I don’t want to watch this,” Tim said. 

Mike had pulled out his phone and was snapping pictures. “I do. This is kinda hot.”

“Mike!” Tim gasped. “Please don’t put them in the same category as me!”

Mike glanced at him. “I said kinda hot. You’re really hot. There’s a difference.”

Tim groaned and looked away as Leitner started to take off Elias’s shirt. “He probably gets off on us watching him, doesn’t he.”

“Definitely,” Mike hummed. “Total voyeurism kink.”

“I can’t believe this,” Tim sighed as Elias unwrapped a condom. “We’ve been covering for Leitner for ages and it turns out Elias knew he was there the whole time!”

“That sucks,” Mike said. “Wanna have sex about it?”

“Not so fast, flyboy,” Tim responded. “We need to annoy Elias somehow.”

“I could strike him with lightning, killing him instantly,” Mike offered. 

“A good prank,” Tim lectured, “does not involve murder. I think we’ve moved past dress code violations.”

“What does Elias hate?” Mike mused. 

“Obviously not Leitner,” Tim said drily, risking a glance at Elias spread-eagled on the desk and regretting it immediately. He had four fingers in his mouth. Four was just excessive.

“May as well stage a wedding,” Mike yawned, still not tearing his eyes away from the skin that Tim’s sexy nun costume revealed. “That’s what I do whenever Simon’s annoying me. I just have Rayner show up in a bridal gown or something and try to get Simon to legally marry him. Hasn’t worked yet. We’re working on it.”

“Leitner would go along with it,” Tim said. 

“Mmhmm,” Mike agreed. “Let’s stage a wedding.”

* * *

Elias drank his no ice banana—just a banana in a Starbucks cup, because the fear in the eyes of the barista who served it was delicious—as he walked up the steps to his Institute. He always felt so much more peaceful once he was inside the spacious and quiet lobby.

As he opened the door, he was greeted with an infernal flood of cheers and garish decorations. The place had been set up like some sort of event center, complete with hideous dollar store garlands.

“What on Earth is going on?” Elias complained.

“You’re getting married!” Simon cheered, patting him on the back. The man was wearing small, round spectacles, a bowler hat, a neon shirt, and ripped jeans. Typical Fairchild stuff.

“Many happy returns!” said Sasha, who was wearing a Wonder Woman outfit that she was obviously trying to pass off as a costume, as if Elias didn’t Know that Sasha secretly hailed from Themyscira. 

“I’ll drink to that,” Melanie congratulated, her voice muffled by the plastic horse head mask she was wearing. 

“I’m getting married?” Elias repeated incredulously.

“If the groom would please come to the altar,” Jonathan Sims snapped over the hubbub of the horrible gathering. “I have a wedding to officiate.”

Tim Stoker appeared seemingly out of nowhere, proffering an arm. “I’ll give you away, Boss. Thank God someone else has to deal with your shit.”

Elias recoiled. “I am not taking the arm of someone wearing nipple tassels.”

Tim shrugged, making his nipple tassels complete with eye charms bounce jauntily. “Suit yourself.”

“This is a ridiculous charade,” Elias told him. “I am not getting married and I demand you clean up my Institute right this...instant…”

He trailed off as his eyes landed on the altar. There was Jurgen Leitner, a vision in white lace and a long train of a gown made from torn book pages. He offered Elias a teasing wave and a wink.

Elias took Tim’s arm.

* * *

“That was a beautiful wedding,” Martin said fondly as they watched Elias and Leitner have their first dance to “Get Low.” 

“Sure was,” Tim agreed. 

“Very romantic,” Jon murmured, his eyes on his garlic and tomato cake that had been made for them by a small rat tugging on Tom Harn’s hair. 

It was a cheap wedding, but a fun one, and Jon couldn’t stop thinking of what he’d do different if he ever got married.

“Speaking of romantic,” Sasha said, hands folded under her chin and elbows on the table, “how are things with you two?”

Jon felt his cheeks flush with heat. 

“O-oh!” Jon stammered. “I-ah-well-um, I don’t know if that’s, um, good, yes, but I don’t—I don’t—”

“Things are fine, Sasha,” Martin said patiently, slinging an arm around Jon’s shoulder. Jon snuggled gratefully into Martin’s chest. “Today isn’t about us.”

“Weddings always seem to bring out the romance in people,” Sasha remarked. 

“Thinking of your own little nuptials?” Tim asked with a wink.

“Tim!” Jon gasped, his face burning furiously.

“Maybe someday,” Martin rumbled with a little laugh, and Jon loved to feel the vibrations through his chest. “I think it’s a bit too soon.”

Jon didn’t want a wedding like this, he decided. He wanted to have one outdoors, with no dress code and fireworks. He’d been very into Lord Of The Rings as a child, and he wanted a Hobbit wedding. It wasn’t a very Jon thought, he realized. But he wanted a wedding that made him feel like Martin did. 

He took Martin’s hand and kissed his palm with reverence, his lips centered on Martin’s ring finger. Maybe someday.

* * *

“I cannot believe they actually did it,” Tim said fondly, lying in thin air in the void that him and Mike had absconded to. “Absolute mad lads. Thank you for this.”

“Mmhmm,” Mike said absentmindedly, clearly about to fall asleep. Tim couldn’t blame him. Tim had really done a number on him—his pale skin showed off a constellation of hickeys. 

“You gonna tweet the pictures of Elias and Leitner making out?” Tim yawned. 

“Duh,” Mike replied. “Peter’s gonna be pissed.”

* * *

Peter was, as it turned out, not that pissed. Well, he started out pissed, but Elias and Leitner were able to...calm him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts? questions? concerns? comment below or catch me on tumblr at ceaselesslywatched


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias and Leitner get set up in the honeymoon suite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tone of this fic has varied SO WILDLY. also cw: necropants. google it

Leitner and Elias decided to honeymoon in the Yarnmouth Wax Museum because Nikola owed Elias a favor after he let her kidnap Jon for a bit. She set them up in the Clown Room, and the moment they walked in Leitner saw the clown dolls everywhere and was instantly very aroused.

“So,” Leitner asked as Elias put his suitcase away in the Clown Dresser, “are you finally going to take your pants off for me? I have yet to see what’s between your legs.”

“I suppose I shall, now that we’re married. And this is quite the appropriate setting for you to see what dwells beneath my trousers,” Elias responded.

Leitner glanced at the clown dolls and shuddered with arousal. This was sexier than any book. There was also a trash can with a basketball hoop set up over it, presumably to add a bit of fun to ordinary trash pickup. Leitner did not find that part particularly sexy.

“Close your eyes,” Elias ordered. Leitner did so. He heard the rustling of fabric. “Now open them.”

Leitner opened his eyes to find Elias standing proudly before him, wearing…

“What am I looking at, darling?” Leitner asked, baffled. “Is that a dessicated penis?”

“These,” Elias proclaimed, “are my necropants.”

At last, the image before him began to make sense. Elias was wearing trousers made out of the skin of someone’s lower half, complete with dick and balls. The dessicated dermis was brown and cracked and very well moisturized by Nikola’s brand, Clown Candy Skincare. The curves of the previous owner of the skin well highlighted how dummy thicc Elias was. Tragically, Elias was not dummy thicc. 

“Now that we’re married,” Elias continued, “I believe it is time you knew my deepest secret. You know who Jimmy Magnet is, correct?”

Leitner nodded, sagely and wisely. “Yes, Jango Mango, founder of your Institute.”

“Well.” Elias presented his balls, and Leitner saw within the scrotum was two eyeballs. “I am Jergen Magnuspod.” 

“You? How? Are you like Edmund Halley? Did you read a Leitner that added Jonas Magnum to your kin list?”

“It’s rather a simple procedure,” Elias explains. “These necropants are crafted from the skin of my original body. I possess whoever wears them as long as the eyes remain in the ballsack.”

“I KNEW the eyes were stored in the balls!” Leitner exclaimed. “This is extremely enlightening.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot ever take them off. But the dessicated skin does serve as a condom of sorts, and it keeps things nice and stiff even after my willy’s gone all soft. Not to mention the texture. Some people who are not bitch-ass sea captain ex-husbands have described it as pleasurable. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

Leitner frowned despite his arousal and desperation to get that centuries-old skin inside him. Some questions needed answering. “Wait a moment.”

“What is it, sugarplum?” 

“If your dick is sheathed in your own dried skin…”

“Yes.”

“And the Magnus Ballsack is full of eyes…”

“Mmhmm?”

“Where does your ballsack go?”

Elias smiled. “Some knowledge is best left unbeheld.”

Leitner opened his mouth to say more, but at that moment Gerard Keay crashed through the window, picked him up, and slam dunked him into the Chekov’s Trash Can With A Basketball Hoop Over It. Yeehaw for our Gerry, cockblocking evil eye bitches since ‘93. Elias did not defend his husband, instead choosing to take advantage of the complimentary ketamine Nikola had left on his Clown Pillow.

* * *

At that moment, the staff of the Archives were squished into a booth at the Cheesecake Factory But British, enjoying a nice slice of beans on graham cracker crust. Unfortunately, the dress code at the Cheesecake Factory was far more strict than at the Archives, so they were all dressed mostly decently. All of Jon’s formal wear was in the wash, so he was wearing booty shorts saying “The Beholding Won’t Let Me Die” and one of Martin’s softest sweaters.

“So,” Tim said, “what happens with the contest now that our double boss is enjoying wedded bliss?”

“It’s not really a contest anymore,” Sasha pointed out. “Just us having fun with clothes!”

“I’ve definitely been forced out of my comfort zone, which isn’t so bad,” Jon input. “I’ve quite enjoyed some of my outfits.”

“As have I,” Martin muttered under his breath, blushing. 

“You ever think about how our UltraBoss is probably having sex right now at this moment?” Melanie said.

“Well, now I do,” Basira complained.

“I Pretend I Do Not See It,” Jon replied. “I have chosen not to behold. I wish only to be held.”

Martin held him. Jon was hold. 

“Seriously,” Melanie pressed. “What is he like in the sack, do you think.”

“Pretty bad,” Tim muttered, before quickly taking a sip of Shrodinger’s Lemonade: it’s in a quantum state between lemonade and Sprite because British people don’t know what beverages are.

“You think he’s pretty bad?” Basira clarified. “Cite your sources.”

Jon Knew and Saw Tim’s sources, but said nothing. He was too busy being held to Behold. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tim told her. “I definitely did not sleep with him, because I have standards.”

This naturally made everyone at the table think Tim had slept with Elias. Tim had not slept with Elias. In fact, he had gotten fabulously drunk and slept with Peter Lukas, who after orgasming had immediately burst into tears and cried for a full hour about how Elias would never take off his “skin condom” during sex and how it was tearing them apart. Tim immediately got fabulously drunk again and vowed not to think about it ever, a vow which he had since broken many times. 

Martin kissed Jon on the top of the head. This was far more agreeable to Jon than thinking about Peter’s Lukas Fluid. 

“You know,” TIm said, “the Institute really isn’t all that bad. We’ve had fun, haven’t we?”

“Except for the worms,” Jon said. “And I got kidnapped a bunch. And your brother died. And we’re all trapped here. And Daisy’s being sent on missions for our evil Beholding boss. And I’m becoming an eye monster. And most of the skin on my hand got burnt off.”

“But you got a boyfriend,” Tim reminded him.

“True. And I wouldn’t change anything if it meant not having Martin.” Jon glared down the chorus of “awww”s that rung out across the table. “But my point still stands. This isn’t an ideal situation, and we can’t quit. And I do not believe Elias will fire us.”

“We managed to make him pop a boner over some ankles,” Tim declared. “This is our next mission. We are going to make Elias Bouchard fire us. All of us.”

The table all agreed. Basira got out the full size sheets of drafting paper she carries with her everywhere, and they began to hatch plans.


End file.
